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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23848303">Words</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IspeakfortheQueen/pseuds/IspeakfortheQueen'>IspeakfortheQueen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who &amp; Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Birthmarks, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, First Meetings, Heteronormativity, It gets averted but heads up I'll warn you before the chapter, Soulmate AU, Victorian, employees to friends to lovers, except the lovers is implied</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:41:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23848303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IspeakfortheQueen/pseuds/IspeakfortheQueen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people are born with a birthmark that says the first words the person they’re meant to be with will say to them.  Jenny Flint has a birthmark but not the sort that says things.  It’s just as well.  She’s not interested in men and too busy trying to stay alive to search for her true love.  ((Or Soulmate AU except it’s Victorian London and you’re gay and poor but a lizard lady just hired you so things are looking up))</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jenny Flint/Madame Vastra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is not my definitive “How they got together” fic.  My head canons for that has a lot more bedsharing and intimate moments than the premise of this story allowed for.  This was meant to be shorter but it just got out of hand.  Still, I hope you enjoy this self-indulgent behemoth.  This *was* the longest story I’ve ever written as a stand alone one chapter fic but I added chapter breaks just to make it easier on y’all.</p><p>Music that can accompany this fic includes Words by Ane Brun and perpetual Jenny Flint anthems: LDN by Lily Allen and Jenny From the Block by J.Lo</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are those?” asks four year old Jenny Flint, pointing to the words inscribed on the skin of her newborn brother’s leg. </p><p>Her Aunt Mary, the acting midwife, smiles as she finishes cleaning off the baby and passes it to Mrs. Flint.  “Don’t you know about love marks girl?”</p><p>Jenny shakes her head.</p><p>Aunt Mary unbuttons the collar of her dress and peels down the fabric until Jenny can see the base of her neck.  Right there, on the surface of skin raised by collarbone, are words, also part of her skin.  The sentence stands out like a big stringy freckle.  Jenny doesn’t know how to read yet but she knows that words are meant to be read.  “People are born with them,” explains Aunt Mary, “They say the first thing the man you’re meant to fall in love with will say to you.”</p><p>“Just superstition,” scoffs Mrs. Flint, not looking up from her nursing son.</p><p>“Do I have one?” Jenny asks.</p><p>“Well you got a right big mess of a birthmark on your back, if that’s what you mean,” laughs her mother, “But it don’t say anything I’ve ever seen in English.”</p><p>When Jenny’s face screws up in a sad expression, Aunt Mary consoles, “Chin up girl, maybe you’ll fall in love with a foreigner.” </p><p>“Chin up girl, it’s just nonsense,” says Mrs. Flint with just the sharpest tinge of remorse in her voice.</p><p>Jenny sets to thinking.  “Why didn’t the others have a love mark?” she asks, referring to the other siblings and cousins whose births she’s bared witness to in her short life.</p><p>Her mother and aunt exchange sad glances.  “The other ones aren’t with us any more, are they now?” her mother says bitterly.</p><p>“No time to grow up and find a sweetheart, eh love?” says her Aunt in a kinder voice, “Come and see your baby brother, dear.  What shall he be named?”</p><p>- - -</p><p>That there are no actual words on her back does not concern Jenny for some time.  She’s too busy with the toils of childhood to want for a sweetheart. Other girls fuss over their marks, dreaming of the day they’ll be married, playing with their dolls (well rags really, twisted into shapes of people) in the lane.</p><p>“Mine says, ‘Pleasure to meet you Miss’.  He’ll be a real gentleman I’m sure.”</p><p>“Well mine says, ‘Pardon me Miss’.  He’ll bump into me at a ball and we’ll lock eyes and dance the night away.”</p><p>“Ha!  When are you going to ever be at a ball?” laughs the third child’s voice.  It belongs to the girl wearing boy's trousers.  She tosses her rag person off a crate as if to make it perform a dangerous stunt.</p><p>“Stop it Jenny! You’re just jealous cause yours don’t say nothin’!”</p><p>“I’m not jealous, I just don’t delude myself.”</p><p>“You only say that cause your ma says that.  Do you even know what ‘delude’ means?”</p><p>Jenny shrugs, “Do you?”</p><p>The girls are equally baffled and Jenny runs and leaps into a puddle, splashing mud onto all of them.</p><p>- - -</p><p>Jenny doesn’t care about the lack of words on her back.  Not when there’s food to find and pockets to pick.  If you can get yourself into a nice neighborhood there’s plenty of pickings to be found.  Just stand next to the queue for tickets at a music hall.  Wait quietly in the bushes behind a bench at a park.  Pretend to be a footman’s boy in training and use quick fingers to take what the rich clearly have in excess and be home by night fall.</p><p>Jenny is good at her secret trade.  She is small, swift, and clever.  She tells her mother she sells flowers on the West End and she does it to see three more siblings, each with words on some part of their body, born.  There are two more born without love marks.  Jenny cares for all of them just the same.  The last one though, is quick to leave this world, and takes her mother along with her.  Mr. Flint was hardly around before.  Now he disappears completely, presumably to a place where he can gamble away what little is left to his children.</p><p>Jenny and her siblings, Artie, Percy, Vivian, and Morgan are all taken in by Aunt Mary’s widower husband.  It's not a bad trade off.  Uncle Harold is a locksmith.  His flat over his shop is a little nicer (a little bigger) than what the Flint children are used to, but it is still not adequate enough space when five young people are added to the four young people who already live there.  Jenny is the oldest of them all and to her annoyance she is asked to “keep the little ones out of trouble, don’t worry about selling flowers."  Jenny’s light fingers are put to work cleaning the flat, mending clothes, cooking meals for all the mouths and it seems her adventures as a pick pocket are over.</p><p>Or maybe her adventures are just taking seed.  Uncle Harold wants to apprentice Artie but Artie’s eyes are always on the water.  Artie will become a sailor the first chance he can get and everyone in the family knows it.  Jenny eavesdrops on the lessons and takes in more than Artie ever will.  She takes in all the talk about tumblers and springs and when the household is sleeping she creeps downstairs and practices on parts in the shop.</p><p>- - -</p><p>Jenny doesn’t care about the lack of words on her back.  If her life is to be cut short before she meets the man she’s meant to love then she might as well live it to its fullest.  And what would she do with a man if she had one?  Men are sweaty and rough and, with all due respect, look like walking slabs of meat that happen to have faces.  She doesn’t understand what her peers see in them. Women though- women can be rough and sweaty and that's wholly another story.  Girls her age, other ragamuffins from the street, with whips of hair stuck to their foreheads and soft lips that crack in the winter to thought consuming textures; now that’s something Jenny can understand.</p><p>When she is a little bit older, Jenny sneaks out at night to see some of these girls, sometimes using her new found locking picking talents.  These girls often have no words on their skin.  Jenny wonders if all a muddled birthmark means is that she’ll never be with a man.  She’s quite all right with that.</p><p>Unfortunately that’s not the answer Uncle Harold wants to hear when she’s caught behind the shop, kissing the daughter of one of his clients. She’s out on the streets after that, at sixteen years of age.  Being parted from her family hurts more than being out on the streets.  She knows the streets well enough and before she leaves she manages to swipe a set of picks from the shop before Uncle Harold would notice them gone.  She regards the lock picks as her fork and knife and makes do.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Somewhere along the lines Jenny gets caught stealing from the wealthy owner of a match factory. She bargains for her life. She’ll perform something akin to indentured servitude in his factory instead of being sent to the gallows. He agrees to her bargain- she hadn’t actually stolen anything yet and the more cheap hands he has the better.</p><p>Jenny is looking forward to having a regular place to sleep even if it is a two penny hangover on a bench crowded with other girls. She gets off easy with her duties at the factory. She cuts up strips of wood, splinters cutting up her fingertips until first they are raw and then they are calloused. She counts her blessings, glad she’s not actually dipping the matches with the other phossy jawed workers. The only trouble she has here is her temper. The foremen has a habit of making passes at the other girls, especially younger ones. Jenny so longs to be part of a family again, that she will do what she can to protect the vulnerable group of sisters she’s suddenly amassed. She keeps them under her wing, makes it clear to the men by the fight in her gait and the bite of her voice that their advances are not wanted.</p><p>A few of the girls have words on their arms. Jenny sees them sometimes when their sleeves are rolled up to work, but no one talks about it out of respect for the majority who don’t.</p><p>- - -</p><p>The men in charge grow frustrated by “that girl who watches the others like a hawk”. They decide that, “If she’s going to be a hawk, she should try hawking the products on the streets.”</p><p>- - -</p><p>It’s a sizable demotion. Jenny knows that this is where match girls are sent to die. It was bad enough when she was a flat chested girl who could more often than not pass off as a boy. By now her body has changed and the streets are unsafe in new ways and there’s no going back to the body heat of the factory until everything in the box has been sold.</p><p>Luckily Jenny knows both the East and West Ends like the back of her hand and she knows where to sell. Outside churches on Sunday, when people are feeling most penitent. Outside women’s clubs on weekdays around noon, when the wealthy women are debating on what great cause to give to and also have a need to prove their charitableness to their social rivals. An overlooked selling spot is three buildings down the road from a tobacconist- the exact moment when a gentleman realizes he has forgotten to also purchase matches but doesn’t wish to walk back to the shop. Most nights she’s back in the girl’s sleeping quarters with all the wares sold. Though, when the opportunity for a sleight of hand reveals itself, Jenny is quick to pocket her own earnings.</p><p>- - -</p><p>Jenny finds a new place to sell on Saturday nights. It’s a little pub- a hole in the wall really- located beneath a storefront with its entrance in an alley. It’s like a Lady’s Club, except no one of high rank ever steps in or out of it. Women, yes, many women, sometimes walking arm in arm, sometimes wearing trousers, are its patrons.</p><p>Jenny stands outside the alley with her tray of matches, but doesn’t ask if the women are interested in buying. Instead she compliments the women on their waistcoats and trousers. She flirts and banters with the ones who look a little lost or the ones with a cautious air- warms them up before they duck into the pub. Sometimes she’s even a sort of watch guard. She plays the naive match girl to suspicious husbands and roaming constabulary. “No sir, I ain’t seen no lady like that in these parts, now do you want a box or not?” By the end of the evening her matches are gone and even though she never steals from these women, she usually ends the night with an offer of a drink or two and on the rare thrilling occasion, time spent in a bed different from her own usual spot in the factory dormitories.</p><p>The women in the pub are kind to her. They smoke and drink and swear and sing bawdy versions of popular songs, but many of them have been in Jenny’s shoes and many of them have figured out how to create a family when their original one has disposed of them.</p><p>Words on the skin, never normally spoken of out of dignity for those who die young, are mentioned freely here. “Love marks” are a taboo to these women, who have no hope of finding a man. Some of them don’t have the words, but many do, and a handful of rare couples have the exact first exchange given to each other on their skin.</p><p>Florrie and Sarah, sit arm in arm at the bar, their fingers constantly lacing together.</p><p>" 'I'm sorry, what did you say?' is such a common phrase, I believe I fell a little bit in love with everyone who said that to me’," says Sarah. </p><p>"But she says, 'You're overwatering those flowers!' and I knew she was the one!" beams Florrie. </p><p>Jenny's heart soars when she hears this story.  She feels as free as bird let from a cage. Let it be known to you, Jenny Flint, that the words on your skin need not be spoken by a man! It’s a glorious revelation that lasts until she remembers that she has no words on her skin, and if she does, they're unintelligible.  She drinks down her pint, a twinge of jealousy and grief at her heart that she may never find a man or woman to say a set of special first words to her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Google search "Two Penny Hangover" if you don't know what that is but remember that I've already claimed "Penny Hangover" as my drag name if for whatever reason I decide to get into drag. If you want you can use the goth alternative "Penny Coffin".</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content Warning for sexual assault and attempted rape at the very beginning of this chapter.  It gets resolved and if you're familiar with the typical flow of Vastra/Jenny fic it's at the usual point right before the first meeting, but just a heads up if you don't want to read that.  You can skip to the next little section if you like.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Some months pass.  The women at the pub look out for Jenny and Jenny looks out for the women and Jenny looks out for the girls at the factory when she's there.  Some nights though, especially on slow week nights, there's no one to look after Jenny.  </p>
<p>Sometimes on these nights there are men who creep around her and make unwanted advances and Jenny, with her quick reflexes, can usually hold her own.  Some nights, one night in particular, she cannot and she is suddenly pressed to the wall of an alley, no escape in sight.  Men hold her by the throat and by the arms and while she kicks they can still push up her skirt and there are rough words and foul breath and the definite sound of trousers dropping and Jenny shuts her eyes, unable to breathe with the hand at her throat.  There is a strange wooshing sound, which Jenny is fairly certain is the blood rushing in her ears until the men make startled yells and drop her before they can do anything more and she falls from where they've pinned her.  Her head hitting the ground.  Another man's voice, a Northern accent, yelling threats to the rough men, and then something cold touching her, someone trying to get her to sit up.  "Are you all right?”, the voice of an educated Lady, a slight roll to the ‘R's'.</p>
<p>- -</p>
<p>Somewhere between hitting the ground and waking up for real, there's a rush of green, orange, yellow light.  Then a face like a mask made of emeralds- beetle wings and snake skin- and all Jenny can think is that the owner of this face is so beautiful.  She’s not sure if she's said that out loud or in her head, which hurts very much.</p>
<p>- -</p>
<p>Jenny wakes up in a large comfortable bed in a large comfortable room and at the foot of the large comfortable bed there is a large comfortable fire blazing under an elaborate wood and tile mantle.  There's molded designs on the ceiling and a thick comfortable carpet on the floor.  She sits up only to feel a cool hand push her back down.</p>
<p>”Sh, sh, sit up slowly."  That Lady’s voice again.</p>
<p>"What?" Jenny asks before she turns and sees that emerald mask again.  Only now she can see it’s not a mask at all.  It’s just the face of a person, with skin, scales, and brilliant bright blue eyes. </p>
<p>"Drink this," the Lady with scales commands in a surprisingly soft voice and passes Jenny a glass of water. </p>
<p>"You saved me, didn't you?" Jenny asks when she's swallowed down the whole glass.  The Lady nods.  </p>
<p>The Lady's gaze is intense but Jenny doesn't pull away from it until the bedroom door abruptly swings open and a man steps in.  He is wearing strange clothes and speaks in a warm voice with a distinct Northern accent.  "Oh good!  You’re up!  Vastra you displayed excellent self control." </p>
<p>"Don't insult me Doctor, you know perfectly well I had no intentions of eating her," the Lady admonishes. </p>
<p>"Only teasing, Vas," says the man with a wave of his hand before taking a seat besides Jenny on the bed.  "Well, how are you feeling?”  </p>
<p>“What does that mean ‘No intentions of eatin’ her’?!”  Jenny exclaims at the Lady.</p>
<p>“Hush now,” says the man. “Don’t worry about her.  You’ve got a nasty bump on your head.”  He pulls a compress from what must be the nightstand, though it feels like it’s been drawn from out of nowhere, and places it on Jenny’s head.</p>
<p>“You’re a doctor?” Jenny asks, staring at him as he adjusts the compress and tucks the blankets around her.</p>
<p>“You could say that,” he says with a grin.  “In fact you can just call me ‘Doctor’.  ‘The Doctor’ is my full title actually.  I see you've met Vastra."  He pulls back to gesture to the scaled woman who is reaching for a pad of paper and a pencil from the nightstand.</p>
<p>“I’m Jenny- Jenny Flint,” Jenny says as a bewildered introduction.</p>
<p>“What was your connection to the men who attacked you?” Vastra asks abruptly, “Did you know any of them or have any relation to them?”</p>
<p>“What?!”  Bits of the night form in  Jenny’s head and she begins shaking uncontrollably.</p>
<p>“Vastra, now is not the time for that!” scolds the Doctor, before turning to Jenny with an apologetic smile.  “Sorry about her.  She’s a brilliant investigator but she still needs to work on her people skills.”</p>
<p>Vastra narrows her eyes at him, “I would rather like to get this over with than put us in any more danger.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know those men!” Jenny shouts.  “One minute I was selling my matches and the next they had me up against the wall, I’ve never seen them before I swear!”</p>
<p>The Doctor pats Jenny’s hand consolingly. “Vastra please-“</p>
<p>There’s a snipping, biting conversation between the two of them that Jenny is vaguely aware of but she doesn’t hear the details because part of her is still back in the alley pressed against the wall.  She wonders if she could have fought those men off on her own and realizes sadly that she wouldn’t have been able to.  A gentle tap on her hands brings her back to the room.  It’s not the Doctor’s hand this time- he seems to have left.  The hand is the gloved hand of Vastra and her piercing blue eyes are staring into her.</p>
<p>“I apologize for my bluntness.  The Doctor is right, there will be plenty of time for questions later.  We will keep an eye on you, Miss Flint.  You can stay here until you’ve made a full recovery.  Then you can make the choice of going back to the match factory or not.  If that does not sound suitable, and frankly I can't imagine how it would, the Doctor and I have been discussing where you could find better employment and have come up with some options you may find more appealing."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Over the course of the first few weeks of Jenny’s employment as a much needed housekeeper to the strange Vastra, the lizard lady’s past is gradually revealed.  Jenny learns that Vastra is the last of a technologically advanced reptilian hominid species (“Whatever that means,” Jenny had mumbled when the Doctor explained it) predating mankind.  Vastra and her sisters (in time Jenny understands this to be a turn of phrase for Vastra’s fellow soldiers) were placed in a period of cryogenic stasis (“A long nap!” the Doctor quipped) deep underground to survive a natural disaster and slept through the fall of the reptilian species (“Silurians” is the formal term used by both Vastra and the Doctor) and the rise of humanity.  Vastra was abruptly awoken in the early 1870’s when repairs to the London Underground violently disrupted her sleep and she in turn violently attacked the workers, which is where the Doctor stepped in to stop her.  (That’s what he does, apparently.  He helps people from other times and worlds.)</p>
<p>It’s a lot to take in, but Jenny wouldn’t be living her life to the fullest if she didn’t.</p>
<p>Vastra has since acclimated to living amongst humans.  She is a private detective, though she is frequently contracted by Scotland Yard to work as a consulting investigator.  She hides her distinctly non-human appearance with thick veils, posing as an eccentric widow in constant full mourning.  Her clients, who come from all walks of life and call her “Madame Vastra” (and the “Great Detective” behind her back), find her odd but Vastra is a very effective at what she does and she is never for want of business.</p>
<p>Vastra’s house is a very fine one, in a neighborhood finer than any Jenny’s ever inhabited before.  The house is filled with many fine objects and furniture.  For the briefest of moments, Jenny considers stuffing her pockets with what she can and running off in the night.  The thought disappears when she remembers the lady’s sharp teeth but considers how these can be both a threat and a protection to her.  As it is, winter is fast approaching and Jenny knows it would be foolish to give up the maid’s quarters, located just off the kitchen, where there is an actual bed, not a pallet or a rope or an overcrowded coffin, an actual bed that she does not have to share with anyone else.</p>
<p>Jenny remembers the basic ins-and-outs of running a household from her time at Uncle Harold’s home and the rest she figures out as she goes along.  To her luck, Vastra doesn’t know the first thing about running a proper household either.  Vastra is a cold blooded reptile from time immemorial.  As long as the fires run and the house remains heated, she is happy.  The house therefore, is a right mess when Jenny arrives.  Jenny is glad to see that she wasn’t just hired out of pity and applies herself to the work of cleaning the house top to bottom.  When compared to her other occupations, Jenny finds this one blessedly easy.</p>
<p>Vastra does not require Jenny to prepare meals, with the exception of when dinner guests are in attendance.  Dinner guests are a rare occurrence and most often consist of the Doctor and one of his odd companions.  (They are usually women, all exceptionally pretty, dressed in clothes that are either too old fashioned or too revealing or an odd cross between both, but never quite right.  Jenny surmises that they are not from this time.)</p>
<p>Along with not fully understanding how a proper household ought to be run, Vastra also does not quite understand what her relationship with her housekeeper should look like.  The lady speaks to Jenny in the most friendly of terms.  She comes downstairs to the kitchens as often as she summons Jenny up to her study to ask for advice on different matters of human life, so as to aid in her cases.  Jenny is at first mortified by these conversations but soon takes it in stride, realizing that it really is fortuitous that she has an employer who does not see her entirely as an inferior.  </p>
<p>Vastra hardly ever has guests or makes calls outside of her business operation.  It soon becomes apparent that Doctor is one of Vastra’s only friend and that Vastra is as out of place in high society as Jenny is.  The Doctor pays calls at such odd times and his visits are far and few between.  Jenny rationalizes that it’s natural that the lady should want someone to talk to.  Jenny soon finds that she likes talking to Vastra.  She’s suffered losses like Jenny, having been separated from her family and ‘sisters’ by time.  Jenny finally feels able to speak candidly about her grief over her being separated from her own siblings.  Vastra is nothing but understanding.</p>
<p>The new job is too good to be true.  Jenny wonders how long she’ll be able to keep up this place of residence.  She’s lived so many places it makes sense that this one can’t last for long, something must come up to push her somewhere else.  She doesn't question why this must be, it's just how things seem to happen.  In the meantime she savors Vastra’s company while she can.</p>
<p>- - - </p>
<p>Of course in all this friendly conversation, Jenny’s life as a lock pick and thief has to come out.  When it does Jenny is almost certain her employment with the brilliant Madame Vastra will be terminated.  Instead Vastra only sets her piercing blue eyes upon Jenny and gives a toothy, conspiratorial grin.</p>
<p>“A thief must be clever to survive.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t that clever when I tried to steal from that factory owner.”</p>
<p>“You were clever to bargain.  Tell me, Jenny,” Vastra leans over, pulls open a drawer of her desk, and starts rummaging around, pulling an assortment of odd objects onto the tabletop.  Vastra’s study is one of the few places Jenny is not allowed to clean and the organized chaos that lurks there is astounding.  “Are you literate?  I find it disturbing that so many young ladies of your background are not.”</p>
<p>“Not everyone can go to school ma’am, but my mother taught all of us our letters.  I can read all right but my penmanship’s somethin’ awful.  I’m better with numbers.”</p>
<p>Vastra seems to find what she’s looking for and places a pad of paper and a pencil onto the desk.  She sweeps the assorted objects back into the drawer and shuts it closed.</p>
<p>“Would you like to join me in my investigations tonight?  I think it will be rather a simple case but I need a guide of the East End.  You have some skills that would prove quite useful.”</p>
<p>“It would be an honor, ma’am.”</p>
<p>“Excellent.  Be ready to go by eight o’ clock sharp.  Until then finish whatever housework you have and afterwards,”  she pushes the notepad and pencil towards Jenny, “brush up on your penmanship.  I may need you to take notes.”</p>
<p>- - - </p>
<p>A year after starting work for Madame Vastra, Jenny suddenly finds herself in the role of an impromptu “secretary” to the detective.  Mostly, she takes notes while Vastra prods and inspects corpses and snoops around crime scenes.  Later Jenny transcribes the findings for official reports on a typewriter.  </p>
<p>Vastra confesses that writing and transcription are actually quite difficult for her.  Jenny doesn’t really understand how that’s possible since Vastra writes in gorgeous legible cursive letters, but doesn’t question it because she is too excited to be included in the detective work (that and Vastra has increased her weekly salary considerably).</p>
<p>Jenny does understand Vastra’s apprehension at using the typewriter though.  Jenny herself has only ever seen them in shop windows (too big and bulky to be a reasonable mark despite the worth of the metal) but after a morning of fiddling with it and a few pieces of scrap paper, she is able to work the Remington backwards and forwards. </p>
<p>Vastra is insistent that maid’s quarters do not have adequate space for Jenny’s new duties and urges her to move to one of the upstairs bedrooms.  Jenny is hesitant, not wanting to leave her secure spot next to the kitchen, but recognizes that such a grand offer would not occur if she were working anywhere else.  Jenny obliges and moves upstairs into one of the unused guest bedrooms (the same one she had awoken in when first meeting Vastra and the Doctor) and uses it partially as a study of her own.  She takes pride in keeping it much tidier than Vastra’s.</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>Jenny immediately learns that working as Vastra’s secretary is more eventful than the title would imply.  In the carriage, before Jenny’s first night of investigative work, Vastra presents her with a roll of linen that, when unwrapped, reveal a set of gleaming lock picks.</p>
<p>“I mentioned you have some useful skills.”</p>
<p>“These aren’t easy to come by, ma’am.  They don’t just give them out to anyone.  You have to be in a guild or-“</p>
<p>“Have experience as a thief as well.”  Jenny doesn’t think that there’s anything about Vastra that could surprise her but she still does a double take.</p>
<p>“Well, a short lived stint as a bank robber.  I thought I would need these.  I practiced but it was far more effective to take out the guards and steal the keys.  The lock mechanisms were infuriating.”</p>
<p>Vastra has a head for many things but not mechanics.  Jenny smiles at the thought of Vastra trying to practice picking locks and growing quickly impatient.</p>
<p>“Does the Yard know about that?”</p>
<p>“Oh, goodness no.  This was long before I started working with them.  In my mind the money I stole had been already taken by those who had more than enough for themselves from those who needed it more.  I returned some of it and kept some for myself.”</p>
<p>“You stole from the rich to give to the poor?”</p>
<p>Vastra nods and shrugs with a grimace.  In front of clients Vastra is the first to rip away the notion that she actually has a soft heart.  In front of Jenny she looks almost bashful.  “The Doctor stopped me before I could do it a second time.  He told me that humans have to figure out certain economic injustices for themselves.”  She lets out a huff of mild frustration, “It is one of the many things he and I do not agree upon.”</p>
<p>Any worry Jenny has about Vastra turning her in for her past crimes disappears from her mind.  Their friend The Doctor, on the other hand, just might.  As if reading Jenny’s thoughts Vastra flashes her brilliant eyes at Jenny and gives a sharp grin, “The Doctor’s wife, however, agrees with me on many things, including terms of justice.  I found this conveniently set on my desk after one of her visits.”</p>
<p>“The Doctor’s married?” Jenny asks, wondering which of the many pretty women the Doctor has brought over was his wife.</p>
<p>“Sometimes.”</p>
<p>The carriage comes to a halt before Jenny can ask what that means.  Vastra rolls the picks back up and places them in Jenny’s hand.  “These are yours on the condition that you use them for just purposes.”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am, I will.  Thank you very much!”  Jenny is elated and her excitement stems from two things.  One is the weight of a set of picks firmly in her hands again.  The second is the cool press of Vastra’s hands on her own.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Firstly: Thank you for the comments and kudos!  I am surprised by the quick responses to this!  Thank you so much!</p>
<p>Secondly: This is it.  This was supposed to be a one shot but I've been working on it off and on for a year now so it's done.  How it ends is how it ends.  I'm gonna write some Wizard of Oz fic now.  </p>
<p>Thirdly: Other Jenny Flint anthem that's also applicable to this specific fic ---&gt; All Talk by Kate Nash</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is not too long before Jenny gets her first taste of action alongside Vastra.  Since her early days of working at Paternoster Row, Jenny has been aware that what Vastra does at night is not necessarily safe.  She sees how the swords displayed in the entry hall go missing when Vastra goes out late.  She has washed blood from Vastra’s clothes and has bandaged many nasty looking wounds.  What Jenny hasn’t seen until she joins the late night investigations, is how quickly Vastra changes her posture, gracefully unsheathes her sword, and quickly and elegantly dispatches the bodies of the tall burly men sent to rough up the detective and her assistant.  In swift, precise movements, Vastra is able to choose who to take down and who to simply knock out.  She lets three men live (though they are unconscious), one is left running, and a fifth (whom Jenny recognizes from their investigations as a very dangerous man) is left lying dead.  </p>
<p>Jenny is able protect herself with her fists and legs but in the end it is Vastra who does most of the work.  When the fight is over Jenny suddenly feels small and clumsy standing next to Vastra.  She thinks of all the times her knowing how to do what Vastra just did might have saved her out of a scrap, or even save others.  She thinks of the girls at the match factory and the women at the pub and all the little girls setting aside their twisted rag dolls to go out into the world and feed their families.</p>
<p>“Teach me how to do that,” she demands as Vastra sheathes her sword.</p>
<p>“Help me carry this body first.”  Vastra’s piercing blue eyes are still distracted by the hunt as she stalks around the dead man.</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>Jenny waits in the carriage after helping deliver the body to a dark spot by the river.  When Vastra returns sometime later there is blood on her chin that Jenny knows it is not her own.</p>
<p>“Do you still wish to learn?” Vastra asks.  She makes a display of cleaning her face with a kerchief but Jenny knows she is carefully gauging her reaction.</p>
<p>“Yes!” she says without hesitation.</p>
<p>“Well, then,” Vastra grins, “We’ll start tomorrow.”</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>Now when she is done with her morning chores, Jenny changes into breeches and a loose blouse and heads to the top most floor of the townhouse where what would be the nursery has been turned into something of a home gymnasium.  Mostly the room is bare save for some trunks pushed against the wall and a few straw mats on the floor.  The air is warm even before they start any exercises but she supposes it keeps Vastra’s body running smoothly, as the cold does seem to slow her down.  Vastra starts by teaching her basic form and defensive maneuvers without weapons.  It’s a strenuous routine but Jenny is a quick study.  </p>
<p>During her few scattered moments of free time (for she has quite the full schedule now) Jenny has been reading some books on physics from Vastra’s study.  The calculations and laws make sense to her.  She can see them in action when Vastra is demonstrating the amount of force to apply to an attacker.  She can calculate how hard she will fall on her back because of a misstep and how correctly posturing her body will help dodge or soften the blows.  She sees the beauty of physics in the way Vastra’s arms wield a practice blade when Jenny finally graduates from basic maneuvers and is ready for weapons training.  Every movement, every stance, every  gesture, offensive and defensive, has a gorgeous logic to it.  Jenny is in awe of it all.  She is in awe of her own growing physical capabilities, in Vastra’s strong and elegant form, and in the reliable and beautiful laws of nature that seem to push and pull the two of them along in familiar rhythms and patterns.</p>
<p>On Jenny’s twenty-first birthday Vastra presents her with her very own sword.  She gives it to her on the same condition she set when she gave Jenny the lock picks.  Jenny has no intention of ever breaking her promise.</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>A second gift comes six months later when Vastra formally recognizes how much work Jenny puts into the business and makes her a partner.  They evenly split the earnings from the cases and Jenny finally stops feeling self conscious about sleeping upstairs.</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>Jenny and Vastra’s line of work does get them into quite a number of frankly bewildering scraps but together they are able to get out of most of them unharmed.  The predictability of each other’s bodies allows the pair to become indomitable in fights.  They work side to side and back to back if needed, even when fighting unpredictable opponents.</p>
<p>One night there is a scuffle in a dimly lit alley with a number of robots that ends in Vastra dislocating her dominant arm.  (“So just a normal Thursday,” Jenny had said sarcastically when they were up against the wall facing the approaching metal men.)  Vastra doesn’t mention anything wrong with her arm until the carriage ride home from the police station where they had successfully closed another case about some treacherous extraterrestrial plot.  “Of course you don’t mention it until now,” Jenny grumbles, as she watches her companion ease her bone back into place with a disconcerting pop.</p>
<p>When they get home Jenny patches them both up to the best of her abilities and draws Vastra a hot bath.</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>A shoulder on the mend means Vastra needs help in the bathtub.  She is reluctant to ask for it.  Jenny can tell by the way Vastra sheepishly knocks on the door of Jenny’s room after ten minutes of banging objects about and cursing loudly.  Soon Jenny finds herself in the washroom, sitting on a stool scrubbing the scales on Vastra’s back with a sponge.  </p>
<p>Jenny has stitched and bandaged up parts of Vastra’s body enough times to be comfortable seeing her in the bath, though it is the first time she’s seen her completely in the nude.  Jenny has always thought Vastra to be quite beautiful in her own lithe, lizardish sort of way but seeing her in the bathtub only confirms this.  Quite literally.  Jenny sees for the very first time the words on Vastra’s back, formed in orange scales that stand out against the emerald green ones.</p>
<p>“ ‘You’re beautiful’,” Jenny reads the words aloud without realizing it.  Vastra’s whole body tenses for a few seconds before she scoffs.</p>
<p>“Honestly Jenny, I don’t know if I’m-“</p>
<p>“No!  I mean-  It’s the writing on your back, I-“ Jenny flushes.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have read it.”</p>
<p>That really makes Vastra freeze.  She turns around in an instant and tries to crane her neck to see her back.  Unable to see, Vastra rises from the tub, splashing water everywhere in the process, and walks over to the mirror above the sink.</p>
<p>Jenny is sure her face is beet red by now but she can’t bring herself to move her eyes from those orange scales, even as Vastra twists and contorts herself to see them for herself.</p>
<p>“What on Earth?!” Vastra exclaims.</p>
<p>“My Aunt Mary used to say that everyone’s born with them.  They say the first words-“</p>
<p>“I know what they are!  You apes aren’t the only species with this trait!”</p>
<p>Vastra stares at the words again before turning around and solemnly slinking back into the tub.</p>
<p>“I apologize for my outburst.  I’ve never had words there before.  It’s been a pattern of seemingly utter gibberish since the day I was hatched and now in the mirror they’ve transformed before my eyes into perfect Silurian.  Specifically the soldier’s written tongue, from the time and place I was born and raised-” Vastra twists around to look at Jenny’s face, the muscles and scales on her face reflecting absolute puzzlement,  “How on Earth did you read that?”</p>
<p>Jenny gives a shrug.  “I didn’t know Silurian letters looked so much like English letters.”</p>
<p>Vastra flinches.  She looks almost offended.  “They don’t.  The alphabet structure alone couldn’t be more different from the English alphabet, with your individual letters representing phonetic - You read it in English?”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am.  ’s got an apostrophe and everythin’.  It says, ‘You’re beautiful.’ ”</p>
<p>There’s a pause.  Jenny worries that she is blushing from saying the words aloud again but Vastra is not even paying attention to her.  Her face has taken on the expression of deep concentration that it often takes when she is puzzling out one of their more complex cases.  When she finally speaks, Jenny has to double takes at Vastra’s use of the uniquely human expression, “Oh bugger.”</p>
<p>Vastra splashes up out of the bathtub again.  “That blasted Doctor and his blasted box!”</p>
<p>She doesn’t even dry off with a towel, she just grabs a dressing gown off a chair with her good hand and walks out into the house.  Jenny chases after her, trying hard not worry about the water on the carpets and floors and trying even harder not to stare. </p>
<p>“The Doctor, ma’am?”</p>
<p>Vastra stalks down the stairs, swings open the doors to her study and promptly maneuvers a wheeled ladder to a corner of the bookshelves that cover the walls.  She climbs up to the highest shelf and brings down a thin volume that Jenny has never seen Vastra touch before.</p>
<p>Vastra places it on top of the clutter of her desk and cracks opens the cover.</p>
<p>It’s not really a book of course.  It’s one of those alien books, or at least one of the variety of alien books that they stumble across from time to time, disguised as a novel.  Inside the cover is a flat thin piece of glass the size of a small piece of paper.  Vastra tilts it slightly towards her and the glass glows a bright yellow light.  Normally the alien books glow white or a grey and green combination, or if it’s some sort of mind control plot some shade of blue.  Vastra touches a corner of it and symbols and images float up into the air.  Jenny thought it was magic the first time she saw one of these, but now she is more familiar with the technical mechanics that produce these sort of projections and has even been able to reproduce similar devices of her own.</p>
<p>“What does that say?”  Vastra asks, pointing to a scramble of loops and blotches that must mean something to the Silurian.</p>
<p>“I don’t know ma’am, doesn’t look like much of anything to me.”</p>
<p>“Of course not.  This object has never traveled in the TARDIS.  The British Museum acquired it when the first underground tunnels were being excavated and I helped myself to it while on an old case that had me trawling through their archives.  It is a Silurian artifact that has never been in the presence of a Time Lord translation circuit.”</p>
<p>“This is what Silurian looks like?”  Jenny cannot take her eyes off the words.  There’s a graceful organic quality to them that she can’t put her finger on.</p>
<p>“Indeed.”</p>
<p>“What does it say?”</p>
<p>“It’s an instruction panel from our cryogenic chambers.  How to psychically reactivate your oxygen levels should they run low, what buttons to press to induce sleep.  Standard safety precautions.”  Vastra snaps the facsimile cover back over the glass, effectively shutting the device and projector off. </p>
<p>“The words on your back changed into English because you passed through a translation device on the Doctor’s ship?”</p>
<p>“They were always in English, Jenny, which is why you could read them.  I could probably have read them too for the past however many years it’s been since I was last in the TARDIS.  Exposure to the TARDIS’s translation matrix has allowed me to read, what has been to you perfect English, in Silurian.  It was very helpful when I was starting my new life in your London.  By now I can read most English words without its help.”</p>
<p>Vastra’s difficulty with the typewriter suddenly makes sense to Jenny, as well as her uncertainty about her own neat penmanship.</p>
<p>“It’s never occurred to me that the TARDIS could translate something as sacred as the words on our bodies.  We used to believe that there was a mate for every soul.  I didn’t think I had one but then I had never thought to look until now.”</p>
<p>“You never made the connection even after you knew how to read English?”</p>
<p>“I was nearly a century old when I went into stasis Jenny, that’s almost halfway into a Silurian’s expected lifespan.  I had long since given up determining what the words said and I lived as if I had had none in the first place.” Vastra sinks into her desk chair, suddenly looking weary.</p>
<p>Jenny feels a number of emotions scramble about her.  One is a surge of compassion and emotion for someone who lived in such a similar manner to herself.  The second emotion is a twinge of jealously because their recent discovery has proven that the Silurian has some human lover (or perhaps, Jenny thinks, it is not impossible to rule out another surviving Silurian) somewhere out in the world.  (Though if Vastra's mate were Silurian why would her words be in English?)  The third emotion is alarm at recognizing her own feelings as jealously.  Jenny knows she shouldn’t be jealous.  Any person worthy of Vastra’s love would have to be an extraordinary individual whom Jenny would very much like to meet someday.  Still, Jenny’s body physically aches when she imagines Vastra’s face, love struck but trying to hide it beneath her layers of stubbornness.  Vastra walking arm in arm with someone else, talking excitedly about some scientific anomaly that aided in a case.  Vastra directing her piercing blue eyes into someone else’s gaze and giving a smile of genuine happiness.</p>
<p>It all makes Jenny nauseous but she looks back at Vastra anyway.  Vastra is slumped in her chair looking equally nauseous at the prospect of having some sort of ‘mate for her soul’ after all.  They are both quiet for several minutes as they both contemplate what this new revelation means.</p>
<p>Vastra finally inhales and leans back in her chair.  She looks at Jenny with something of a nervous appraisal.</p>
<p>“And you, Jenny, do you have- if it’s not too intimate a question-“</p>
<p>“I’ve got a right muddy birthmark across my back if that’s what you’re asking.”  Jenny tries to hide the bitterness in her voice.  “I have lived my life like you, ma’am.  Like there’s no one to wait for so why bother-“ The single image of the Silurian writing that had Jenny seen just moments ago flashes through her mind and the penny drops.</p>
<p>“Hang on.  Can you look at my back?”</p>
<p>Jenny leaves for the upstairs washroom without further explanation and of course Vastra follows.</p>
<p>Jenny removes her clothes to the waist.  Her shirt and undergarments are all left in the puddles Vastra had made when she had so unceremoniously risen from the bathtub.</p>
<p>Jenny doesn’t twist around to make out her birthmark, which she suspects now would read in English, perhaps even in Vastra’s neat curling handwriting.  In the mirror Jenny can see Vastra standing in the doorway behind her.  </p>
<p>Vastra is staring at her back with a look of perfect shock.  Jenny focuses on her hands clutching the porcelain basin of the sink.  She breathes in and hears Vastra move closer.  Suddenly there’s a cool hand on her back, tracing the birthmark.  Her fingers move up and around the looping splotches, touching the oddly placed freckles. </p>
<p>“Oh my dear,” Vastra finally breathes.  “I’m so glad it’s you.”</p>
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